The Semaphore

The trail of footprints led them nearly a quarter mile along the path before veering suddenly into a thick section of forest. A short ways beyond that the trail tapered, narrowing as if the people of Arborvale had formed into a single-file line. In that fashion the footprints led directly into a small clearing, where the ground was stippled with sunlight, and right up to the clearing’s middle before ending abruptly at the edge of a perfectly circular hole.

The hole was around three feet in diameter. The forest’s limited sunlight did nothing to illuminate the space below its edge. A leaden stillness seemed to bubble up from within it, and a faint smell like the carcassy odor of a lakebed.

The footprints appeared to march directly into the hole, one at a time.

Pontis’s stomach knotted at the bizarre implications.

Varia held the satchel tightly to her chest.

Mondagreen stood over the hole. “What in the precious fuck…”

Varia lowered a hand just inside. “It’s full cold,” she said.

Pontis looked up at the tall trees’ unattainable upper branches. The sky seemed so far away. A bird darted quickly across the opening in the canopy. Pontis tried to follow it with his eyes, but they stopped. There was something off about the branches over the clearing. At first he thought they had grown strangely, stunted for some reason. But as he peered closer he realized that they were broken—every branch—in accordance with the perimeter of the clearing. It was as if something very tall had been placed there, shearing the branches in a cylindrical shape, and then somehow been removed.

He tugged Varia’s sleeve and pointed up.

She blinked at the trees. “What?” she asked. “What do you see?”

Pontis jotted a note and handed it to her.

“…The branches?” She looked up again, and her brow furrowed. “Looks like something cut them.”

Mondagreen exhaled a plume of smoke and scrunched up his eyes. “Do you hear that?” He dropped to his knees and lowered an ear toward the hole. Varia and Pontis did the same, and for a long moment they listened.

Faintly, from far below the earth, a sound rose up. A single, bitter note, as if plucked on an untuned harp. Over and over. At slow intervals.

“Music?” Varia asked, leaning further over the hole.

“If you want to call it that,” said Mondagreen.

Pontis recalled something, vaguely. A red hue. Soft walls. A downward momentum. But that was as far as his memory allowed, and the recollection evaporated.

Mondagreen produced a match from the collar of his shawl. He lit it on the side of his boot and held it toward the mouth of the hole. Its weak, trembling flame barely illuminated the glistening rock of the vertical tunnel below. He dropped the match, and the three leaned forward to watch it fall.

The point of light receded to nothing in the darkness.

Mondagreen sat back. “Well, at least we know it’s deep,” he said.

Varia chewed her lip for a long beat, then nodded at Pontis. “I’ll go first,” she said.

Pontis and Mondagreen stood in unison.

“I’m sorry,” said Mondagreen. “You mean, go first out of this forest, of course.”

Varia took a step toward Pontis. “If you can’t,” she said, “I won’t blame you a bit. I just ask you stay with the girl till I’m back. And if I’m not, you bring her back out down to Lowood Den with you.”

Mondagreen looked at Varia as if she had ten eyes. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re not actually talking about climbing down into this fucking hole here that ate the whole town of Arborvale? Because that’d be insane. And I’ve gotten a mess of vibes off you, Long Legs, but suicidal insanity ain’t been one of ’em.”

Varia turned to Mondagreen. “Pontis and me were sent to find answers,” she said. “There’s answers down there.”

The hole curdled darkness.

Mondagreen blinked at her, then at Pontis.

Pontis held Varia’s gaze. She held the satchel firmly, as if she expected someone to try and snatch it away from her. Years ago, when Varia was Pontis’s age—and Pontis no older than ten—they had an assembly at school a few days before Madock. All the students gathered in the gymnasium, class by class, too near the end of the day and too near the holiday break to keep their energy in check. Headmaster Jong, while trying to quiet everyone down, went pale suddenly, and collapsed right there in front of the whole school. A stroke. The younger children screamed. Some of the older children laughed. Some teachers fled to get help while others wrangled their classes out of eyesight. Pontis did not remember when he left the gymnasium, or what happened the rest of the day. All he remembered was that amidst the chaos and panic, Varia had pushed through the crowd and knelt beside Headmaster Jong, and held her hand.

It was his first memory of Varia Longley.

He took out his voice pad and wrote a note.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

‘No,’ it read. ‘I’m going first.’

Varia laughed, quick and pained. “Fair enough, lovey-boy.”

Mondagreen read the note over Varia’s shoulder. “Well fuck me.” He threw his arms up and turned in a circle. “You’re both completely insane. Not just a little nuts—crazy like a pair of clown shoes.” He paused to look down again into the hole, then scrunched his eyes shut and backed away. “Nice knowing you both,” he said. “I’m gonna go enjoy the rest of my life aboveground.” He started back toward the path.

“Wait,” Varia said. “We need your help.”

Mondagreen turned, his mouth split into an incredulous gold and silver smile. “If you think I’m going down there with you, we clearly ain’t met. I’m Lady Mondagreen of Tecca. And you must be a fucking banana factory.”

“No,” Varia said. “You couldn’t go with us if you wanted. We need a one to stay with her.” She cradled the satchel. “We need you to keep her safe till we’re back. True safe.”

Mondagreen rubbed his face and looked up at the porous canopy. His glasses reflected the gray leaves. “Yeah,” he said. “Course I’ll keep her safe. Just ’cause you two idiots want to suffer don’t mean the girl should suffer with you—sure not more than she already has.”

Varia nodded. Pontis gave Mondagreen a thumbs-up.

“But you’re not back by nightfall, I’m carrying the girl to Tecca.” He wiped his mouth. “Good doctors there. Maybe somebody can help her.”

“Fair.” Varia unfastened the satchel and handed it gently to Mondagreen.

Mondagreen took the girl in his arms. Varia tied the satchel over his shoulders, and then leaned forward and softly kissed the white cloth.

“Remember she takes water twice a day,” Varia said. “Not a lot—just enough to keep the pains of thirst off her.”

Mondagreen nodded. He stood awkwardly with the satchel, but held it gingerly, his wide hands spread around the small body inside.

Varia turned to Pontis. “Any idea how to do this?”

Pontis shook his head.

“First,” Mondagreen chimed in. “Let’s see if we can get a better look at what’s waiting on you down there.”

#

Mondagreen left the clearing. In his absence, Pontis and Varia stood in silence, staring at the hole. The longer they stared, the more powerful the rotten smell emanating from it became, and the more discernible the droning, sour note until it was the only sound Pontis could hear, drowning out the birds and the rustling of leaves in the breeze overhead.

When Mondagreen returned he was carrying one of the lamps from his vehicle, what Pontis had mistaken two nights before for a glowing eye.

“One of the perks of building this sweet honey from stolen parts—” Mondagreen cleared his throat. “—found parts—is everything’s detachable.”

He knelt beside the hole and flicked a switch on the lamp. It emitted its powerful white light. Pontis and Varia stood behind him, peering over his shoulders.

The hole was very deep. Its slick rock walls glistened like the inside of a throat, stretching downward, neither tapering nor curving. Deep below—deeper even than the deepest parts of the ravine in the Lowoods—the hole ended at what appeared to be a flat, red floor.

“I’d say eighty feet.” Mondagreen switched off the lamp and set it on the ground. “Had a rope till recently, but it snapped towing a fella out of some mud down in Cade.”

Pontis rummaged through his bag until he found the spool of rope he’d packed before leaving home.

“Just when I thought you’d have to cancel your plans.” Mondagreen took the rope and fed it through his hands, measuring as he went. “Might be just long enough. Though you may end up jumping the last few feet.” He tied one end of the rope around the trunk of a tree at the clearing’s perimeter with a series of deft knots, then returned to the hole, one hand cupping the girl’s head through the satchel, and tossed the rope down.

Again Mondagreen directed the lamp down. The rope dangled against the wet rock, stopping about ten feet above the red floor.

“You can make the jump,” Mondagreen said. “Getting back up might be tricky, though.”

“We’ll cross that later,” said Varia.

Mondagreen shrugged. “Feels like something to worry about now, but you’re the ones going down there.” He gave the rope a firm tug.

“We’ll be fine,” said Varia softly, as if to herself.

“I’ll be up here with the light,” said Mondagreen. “Once you land, assuming there’s anywhere to go, it’ll get dark. I’d offer you a lamp, but you don’t come back, I’ll need both to scud across Rapidan.”

Pontis pulled a candle from his bag.

Mondagreen chuckled. “You don’t happen to have a bottle of proof in that magic bag, do you?”

Pontis produced the bottle of proof Refi had given them and held it out to Mondagreen.

Mondagreen blinked at the bottle, then threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll stop there,” he said. “Before I ask for something I can’t take back.” He uncorked the bottle and sniffed it. “Woof.” His nose wrinkled. He took a sip, swallowed, and exploded into a coughing fit.

Varia shook her head. “That was meant to be our antiseptic,” she said over Mondagreen’s hacking. “So don’t go and drink it all while we’re gone.”

Mondagreen gagged into his hand and wiped his mouth. “Long Legs, if I drank this whole thing, I’d be in worse shape than our girl here.” He patted the satchel.

Varia exhaled through her nose.

Mondagreen set the bottle of proof aside and lit a cigarette. “You two are all set,” he said. “But I still say you’re completely fucking loony.”

Varia stood over the hole. “You ready?” she asked Pontis.

Pontis stepped up beside her.

“You’ll take care of her,” Varia said to Mondagreen.

“Nothing’ll happen to her long as she’s with me.”

Varia fastened her walking stick to her back and checked that the hunting knife was attached to her waistband.

Pontis took the rope in his hands, eyeing the point where it disappeared over the edge of the hole into darkness. He gave it a tug against the tree.

“Wait,” Mondagreen reached into the collar of his shawl and produced the ethergrain pen. “Take this back. Don’t want you running out of charcoal down there and not able to say something important.”

Pontis took the pen and slid it into his pocket.

“But soon as you get back, that pen’s mine again,” Mondagreen said. “Fair trade.”

Pontis leaned back over the hole, trusting the rope, and lowered himself down. Varia took a long breath, touched the satchel one last time, and then followed.

Mondagreen held his lamp over the hole. He watched as Pontis and Varia descended, their shoes skidding on the slick rocks of the hole’s throat. Pontis could have gone faster—Mondagreen could tell—but he kept his pace measured and his body positioned underneath Varia. They were stupid—no question about that—but they were stupid in the brave way. Mondagreen considered, not for the first time, that sometimes you had to be one to be the other.

They reached the bottom quickly and without incident, dropping the last bit of distance to the red floor. Pontis waved up at Mondagreen, then reached up and touched the end of the rope, illustrating that he could, in fact, reach it again. Mondagreen waved back, training the light down on them. Varia’s voice echoed up the walls of the hole, but he could not make out what she said. Pontis lit his candle and the two walked off, disappearing down some passage that Mondagreen could not see from his vantage. He waited for several minutes, and when they did not reappear he shut off the lamp and sat back.

He considered having another swig of proof, but the first one had really kicked him in the teeth. He considered lighting a cigarette, but his throat was dry, and the forest smelled nice in the late morning. He sat, his legs crossed, taking slow breaths through his nose, rocking the satchel in his arms absentmindedly, comforting the girl in a way his old man had never done for him.